


Winging It (And Other Bird-Related Puns)

by HeyAssbuttImBatman



Series: Kliego Week 2019 [7]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Klaus' bird brain wants to get married so badly, Kliego Week 2019, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Wing Grooming, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 10:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18892912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyAssbuttImBatman/pseuds/HeyAssbuttImBatman
Summary: “Hey, Diego,” Klaus says, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Are you busy?”Diego narrows his eyes at him, obviously trying to figure out what Klaus wants. “Not really,” he says slowly. “I’m just getting ready for patrol. What’s up?”“My wings are—” He doesn’t know how to describe them, so he merely shakes himself out, fluffing out his feathers. “Well, you can probably see how they are. I think I broke a coverlet, too?”“You need help grooming them?” Diego guesses. He sets his knife aside and motions Klaus over.





	Winging It (And Other Bird-Related Puns)

**Author's Note:**

> Day Seven: Free For All
> 
> And I clearly chose wingfic!
> 
> EDIT AS OF 05/20/2019: This fic has been beta read for typos and grammar mistakes.

Klaus had gotten used to keeping his wings held tight against his body—having them out was just asking for trouble, when he was out on the streets, when he was in rehab (all eight times), and even when he was in the army in Vietnam. He’d bind them down, sometimes, if the muscles ached too badly for him to be able to hold them down himself.

Averting the apocalypse feels like a new beginning, so Klaus makes the conscious decision to change things in his life. Big changes, like adding more colors to his closet, investing in makeup remover, and leaving his wings out more often. 

Or all the time, really, just like his siblings do. 

The only problem, as he’s now finding out, is that leaving his wings out means his wings get dirty or ruffled or even damaged. He’s got a broken covert on his left wing that stings like a bitch when he moves too suddenly, and his wings are a bit too oily at the top and a bit too dry at the bottom. He looks scruffy, and he doesn’t like it.

 _Grooming_ , he thinks, looking at himself in the mirror. _I need someone to help me groom_. But who can he ask? Vanya and Allison, who would be his first choices, both have their own lives and houses outside of the Umbrella Academy mansion, so they’re out. He doesn’t even want to consider asking Luther or Five for help; no doubt he’d end up with a broken wing, whether from Luther’s strength or Five’s snappy tempter. Ben, much as Klaus loves him, is still a ghost.

Well, that wasn’t a very difficult decision at all, really. It has to be Diego.

Now to go find him.

Klaus folds his wings loosely and heads for Diego’s room. It’s evening, which means Diego is going to be getting ready to go on patrol soon. Sure enough, he’s sitting cross-legged on his bed when Klaus knocks on his open door, sharpening his throwing knives. His wings are relaxed and draped over the bedspread behind and to either side of him. They stay relaxed when Diego looks up at him, and Klaus tries not to preen at this display of trust.

Wait, no, he _needs_ to preen. That was the whole point of coming here, after all.

“Hey, Diego,” Klaus says, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Are you busy?”

Diego narrows his eyes at him, obviously trying to figure out what Klaus wants. “Not really,” he says slowly. “I’m just getting ready for patrol. What’s up?”

“My wings are—” He doesn’t know how to describe them, so he merely shakes himself out, fluffing out his feathers. “Well, you can probably see how they are. I think I broke a coverlet, too?”

“You need help grooming them?” Diego guesses. He sets his knife aside and motions Klaus over. Klaus flops onto the floor in front of the bed, lifting his right wing and dumping it unceremoniously in Diego’s lap. Diego huffs in surprise and Klaus grins at the disgruntled expression he imagines Diego is wearing, but the smile slides off his face at the first cautious brush of fingers through his feathers.

Diego is gentle. His fingertips run lightly over Klaus’ wings, clinically, and Klaus knows he’s just checking over their condition, but after so long with no one touching his wings, it feels _good_. He shivers and relaxes, almost involuntarily. Diego clucks his tongue.

“Dude, when was the last time someone groomed your wings?” he asks. Klaus hums consideringly.

“How long ago did I leave the mansion?” he asks seriously. Diego hisses a breath out from between his teeth.

“No one’s groomed your wings in _thirteen years?_ ” he asks incredulously.

“No one _else_ ,” Klaus says. “I’ve managed perfectly fine on my own, thank you very much.”

Ben is gone at the moment, otherwise Klaus knows he’d snort at that.

“I’m going to be blunt here,” Diego says, and Klaus lets out a laugh, because they all have their issues to work on, and one of Diego’s biggest is to not say whatever dickish thought runs through his head. He’d taken his siblings’ criticisms to heart, and now he at least gives them a warning before he goes ahead and says whatever dickish thought is running through his head.

“I’m going to be blunt here,” says Diego. “Your wings look like shit. Like, yeah, you don’t have bald patches or whatever, but come on, man.”

Klaus glares even though he knows Diego can’t see him. “Well, excuse me,” he says. “That’s why I came to you for help.”

Diego sighs.

“Look,” he says, “you need to take better care of your wings. I can show you some techniques to help you groom them better yourself, because God knows I’ve picked up a few tricks over the years myself.”

 _Of course,_ Klaus thinks, a little bit bitter. _Of course this is just a one-time thing._

“And you can come to me whenever you want them groomed thoroughly, okay?” Diego continues, and Klaus’ brain promptly short-circuits. He pulls his wing from Diego’s lap and turns to look at him incredulously. There’s a flush on Diego’s face but he holds Klaus’ gaze steadily.

“Want?” Klaus repeats softly, because siblings groom each other’s wings, sure, but it’s not usually a standing invitation. Wings are private, they’re personal, and—and people like _Luther and Allison_ would give each other an open invitation for a grooming whenever they want ( _want,_ not need). Not Klaus and Diego.

Except Diego’s flush is stronger now, and his eyes keep flicking away like he’s embarrassed, and his wings have snapped to attention at his back, the feathers fluffed up like Diego is flustered. 

Out of all of their siblings, Diego’s wings are Klaus’ favorite. They’re big, powerful eagle owl wings, speckled dark brown and tawny on top with a pretty gold-cream underside. They’re not so big as Luther’s or even Allison’s—though it’s not like Luther can even fly anymore—but Diego’s are infinitely more fascinating. He’s the only owl in the house, so while Klaus’ peregrine falcon wings make him the fastest, Diego’s the most _silent_ flyer out of them all. _Predator’s wings,_ his mind supplies.

Klaus’ fingers itch now with the urge to find out if Diego’s wings are as soft as they look, but he restrains himself.

“You heard me the first time,” Diego mumbles. A goofy grin splits Klaus’ face.

“Well, yeah, but I just wanted to hear you say it again.”

“Dick,” Diego says. “Now show me where that broken coverlet is. We’ll get that out before we do anything else.”

Klaus has to stand up and face Diego fully in order to spread his wing enough to reach the broken feather. Their rooms are too small for Klaus’ wingspan—or even half of it—so the wing ends up awkwardly curving around the circumference of the room, blocking the door and effectively boxing the two of them in. It’s almost like what mates do.

Diego doesn’t seem to have noticed. He runs his fingers through the soft undersides of Klaus’ wings, searching. His finger brushes up against the broken feather and Klaus hisses, jerking back in pain.

“That one,” he grits out.

“Dude, how did you even do this?” Diego muses aloud, and doesn’t seem bothered when Klaus doesn’t answer. “This is going to hurt, I’m warning you now.” He looks up at Klaus, his eyes big and warm, his hands buried in Klaus’ feathers, and _oh_. 

Oh, wow. That’s surprisingly. . . nice. A little domestic for Klaus’ tastes—for either of their tastes, really—but he suspects grooming might be a special occasion.

“Okay,” he says. “Do it.”

Diego pulls the feather out quickly, but sharp pain lances along Klaus’ wing anyway. It snaps shut automatically, nearly knocking Diego off the bed in the process.

“Um,” says Klaus. “ _Ow._ ”

Diego huffs and straightens up. “I did warn you,” he says. “Now how do you want to do the rest of this?”

“Won’t you miss patrol?” Klaus asks, hesitating. Diego bites his bottom lip.

“The city won’t spontaneously combust if I miss patrol for one night,” he says. “Besides.” And here he looks at Klaus from underneath his eyelashes, and Klaus feels his face heat up. “You’re more important.”

“Oh,” Klaus says softly. “Okay, then. Um. Can I get on your bed?”

“Yeah, go for it.” Diego’s bed is up against the wall so Klaus will only be able to spread one wing at a time, but it’ll be better than having to lie down on the floor. Klaus flops down onto his stomach and lets out a sigh, feeling himself relax preemptively. He spreads his right wing, as the left one is still a bit sore.

Diego sits next to him, one leg curled underneath him and one dangling off the side of the bed so that some of Klaus’ wing rests in his lap. He starts at the top, where the feathers are the most greasy, running his fingers through them softly to spread the oil down through the rest of them. It feels _good_ , like someone running their nails lightly across his scalp. Klaus shivers and makes a small, pleased noise.

The movement of Diego’s hands is hypnotic. Even when he stops what he’s doing for a few seconds—to straighten a feather, or pluck out some loose down—Klaus finds that he’s slipping further and further towards sleep.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Diego gently shakes him awake. 

“This one’s done,” he says softly. Klaus whines in protest but turns around anyway. His left wing has stopped hurting by now so he doesn’t hesitate to spread it for Diego to get to work.

Klaus really does fall asleep as Diego grooms the second wing. By the time Klaus wakes up again, the room is much darker and the air feels heavier, in that strange way it only does when you wake up and it’s the middle of the night. 

His wings are folded lightly across his back and he’s somehow moved over closer to the wall. He rolls his shoulders, stretches his wings out as much as he can and runs a hand over the feathers. Diego’s done an amazing job; the feathers are glossy and smooth, not a single one out of place, and he _feels_ lighter, as if he’s missing more than a few loose feathers.

He remembers suddenly that he’s in Diego’s room, on Diego’s bed— _nest,_ hisses some primal, animalistic part of him, which Klaus tells to shut the fuck up if it knows what’s good for it. Diego is nowhere to be found. Klaus pushes himself up onto his elbows, prepared to go back to his own room, and the bed shifts in a way it shouldn’t, not if he’s the only one lying there.

He moves his wing aside fully and finds Diego lying there, curled up on his side with one wing spread out behind him and the other draped over himself like a blanket. Even as Klaus watches with bated breath, Diego stirs and wakes, and blinks at Klaus in confusion.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse from sleep. Klaus swallows thickly.

“I’m fine,” he says. “I’m great, actually. You're—really good at this.”

A sleepy, unguarded smile spreads across Diego’s face. “Thanks. Go back to sleep, now, okay? It’s too late to be awake.”

He closes his eyes and curls further into Klaus’ side, and a moment later, his breathing goes deep and even. Slowly, Klaus turns so that he’s on his side, too, with his wings folded loosely behind him. They’re kind of pressing into the wall and it’s not—comfortable. But it isn’t uncomfortable, either, and besides, it would be worth it, anyway, to sleep face to face with Diego. In the dark, his features are lost to shadow—his eyelashes are a smudge against his skin, his mouth a vague shape that Klaus wants to kiss.

He closes his own eyes and curls his wing over himself and Diego. The dark makes him brave—he gives in to temptation and presses a chaste kiss to Diego’s mouth. Diego’s eyes are open when Klaus pulls back. His lips quirk up into a small, pleased smile.

Klaus thinks, _Fuck it_ and smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> This week has been such a journey, but I'm so glad you guys have stuck with me through it! It was a lot of fun, too, and a great way to get some new fic into the kliego tag.
> 
> In case you want to know what everyone's wings look like:
> 
> * Luther: [Harpy Eagle](https://images.app.goo.gl/BRFgohRMYaT8NcbY6)
>   
> 
> * Diego: [Eurasian Eagle Owl](https://images.app.goo.gl/Ahu2Gu3kUGcckovLA)
>   
> 
> * Allison: [Swan](https://images.app.goo.gl/RBtASYH2heRCQ5eZ7)
>   
> 
> * Klaus: [Peregrine Falcon](https://images.app.goo.gl/xRL5wdB5PD6oMqtc8)
>   
> 
> * Five: [House Sparrow](https://images.app.goo.gl/Ayg3JbtUpXhyg3yF7)
>   
> 
> * Ben: [Raven](https://images.app.goo.gl/nxJEG6AjrC7QCRWu9)
>   
> 
> * Vanya: [Rufous Hummingbird](https://images.app.goo.gl/RHicywW3FncHK7Uj7)
> 
>  
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
> * Short comments
>   
> 
> * Long comments
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> 
> * Questions
>   
> 
> * Constructive criticism
>   
> 
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>   
> 
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> Note: If you don't want a reply for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with "whisper" and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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